


Investigative Carving

by harper1611



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Pumpkins, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harper1611/pseuds/harper1611
Summary: Damien knows his mom's secret - she's a witch. The trouble is getting her to admit it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: Max's Haunted Palace 2020





	1. The Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on prompt #8 from [Max's Haunted Palace!](https://maximit3.tumblr.com/post/630620037660786688/maxs-palace-is-hosting-a-multi-fandom-october)

"Mom, are you a witch or a wizard? Cuz sometimes people say they're the same thing but sometimes they aren’t," I explained, carefully tacking the paper template to my pumpkin. I had picked a goofy Frankenstein face out of the book of templates that came with the kit, because that was my favorite monster. Also it was marked ‘intermediate’ so it wasn’t for babies but it wasn’t too tricky either. I picked out a scaredy cat arching its back for my mom’s pumpkin. She likes cats, we even have a black one named Newt. That’s also part of being a witch, if you didn’t know. You have to have a Familiar.

I’d been thinking about it for awhile, but I decided to ask about her being a witch now because we were carving pumpkins together and that meant she couldn’t walk away. Also Dad was upstairs working on his computer, just in case he didn’t know. Obviously my mom was trying to keep it secret. 

"What? Damien, honey, witches aren't real," Mom said, giving me a confused smile. That's how I knew I was right - that was the smile she gave when I asked if my birthday presents were hidden in her closet (they were). She had dumped all the tools from the two kits out onto the newspaper covering the table, and was sorting them out carefully. I already knew I was going to grab the orange ones, so Mom could have the lime green ones.

“They are, and I know you’re one because the basement has potions and stuff. Also how else would Newt always get better without going to the vet,” I pointed out. It just made sense. I grabbed one of the little saws and started at the top of my template.

“Oh, honey, no - the, the basement is just where I have my crafts and things. It’s not witchcraft,” she said, laughing nervously. “And cats get better all the time, it’s just nature, that’s not magic.” She began pinning the cat pattern onto her pumpkin. I wondered if she could use magic to carve a pumpkin.

“Also you have a witch outfit in your closet with the pointy hat and everything,” I added. I popped out one of the bits I had carved out, and wiped the pumpkin juice off my fingers onto my pants. 

“ _That’s_ a Halloween costume, baby,” she said, suddenly laughing and looking relieved. “That’s not anything suspicious.”

“So the other stuff is suspicious?” I asked. “What about how you fixed the car when Dad got in a fender bender?” 

“What?” she said, paling.

“Yeah, I saw you look at the bump in it and then you said something and it popped back out,” I reminded her. I didn’t think this was as strong of evidence as the witch hat, but I guess I had to use whatever I had.

“That...I just…well,” she said slowly, rolling her lips. “I just kicked it back into shape is all.”

“Is it like Santa where you can’t tell me how he does his magic?” I asked. I knew it might be secret going in, but I kind of thought being her son would mean she could tell me. Plus, I’m almost ten. “Wait, are you related to Santa? Because most people think he’s white. But I’ve seen a black Santa before.”

She was quiet for a little bit, which was fine because I had to concentrate on my pumpkin. I wanted to make sure the lines were extra good.

"You know Santa and the Tooth Fairy aren't real, right?" she asked gently. She picked up her own little saw and started cutting. She was frowning now, probably because I gave her the harder template. That one was marked ‘advanced.’

"I know adults think that."

Her eyebrows shot up, but she tried to keep the rest of her face neutral. She was still focused on the pumpkin though, carving away.

I shrugged.

"If they _really_ weren't real, how come everyone knows who they are and what they do?"

"Well, I mean, not everyone I'm sure. And there are lots of stories that are popular around the world-"

"Yeah but it's even in TV shows and stuff. And there’s a Santa tracker online."

"Well, a lot of Christian imagery has made its way into-"

"Plus why would you keep lying to other kids once you found out they weren't real?"

"God, Damien," she said with a tense sigh. That was what she usually said when I had asked too many questions.

She was sawing faster now, clearly irritated. She made a jerky movement suddenly, and then said one of the words I am Not Allowed to say.

She let out an irritated _"u_ _gh"_ like when dinner burned or the cat shredded something. She was holding her hand, and I smelled the blood before I saw it oozing off. Gross.

"Can you heal it with magic?" I asked, leaning on the table and trying to take a closer look at it.

She stared at me, blank faced, before shaking her head and walking upstairs.

“Don’t start carving again until I come back down,” she said over her shoulder.

That was okay. There was plenty of time before Trick-or-Treat. I would still have time to ask her about a spell to make fun size candy bars into full size ones.


	2. Dilemma

I bounded upstairs, holding onto my hand. We had bandages downstairs too, but I really needed a minute away from Damien to breathe, so I went for the ones in our bedroom.

"Your son is a real piece of work," I hissed in a stage whisper as I closed the door behind me.

"What?" Kofi said, spinning his chair away from the desk he was working at as he took off his glasses. "Wait, what happened?"

"Well this I did to myself," I explained tiredly as I lifted my hand slightly, "but Damien was distracting me."

"Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?" he asked, already grabbing the first aid kit out of the closet.

"Yes," I snapped, "I did, because your son asked whether I prefer 'witch' or 'wizard.'"

He stopped as he set the first aid kit down on the bed to stare at me. I gave him a ' _yeah, exactly_ ' expression. 

"I mean, did you tell him sorcerer was also an option?" he asked, ducking his head as he tried to hide a smile. I sat down on the side of the bed, wincing when he cleaned the pumpkin guts out of my cut. I really wished Damien was less observant, it would’ve been so much nicer to heal this myself.

"I see where he gets it from," I said witheringly. "And this isn't funny, he's really convinced."

"Okay, so just tell him then," he said, moving on to gently wrapping my hand in gauze.

"He's _nine_ , Kofi. You can't tell a nine year old witchcraft is real," I said, exasperated.

"Why not? I mean it's not that different from him believing in Santa, right?"

"Don't even go there," I said with a warning look. "We've already had quite the discussion about Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Not exactly the way I’d planned on breaking it to him that they aren’t real."

He rocked back on his heels, trying to hide another smile.

"He really thought of everything, huh? I dunno, seems like he's got you dead to rights. I think you gotta come clean," he said, standing up from where he’d been squatting in front of me.

“I feel like you really aren’t understanding why telling a nine year old magic is real is like giving him a loaded gun,” I countered, adjusting the bandage as he went to put the kit away.

I thought about my own childhood - I found out at 13, the tradition in my family. Even then, I’d used it for a lot of silly things: glamours on crushes, luck charms for test days, a spell that braided my hair for me. Actually I still used that last one, but never mind that. After the first rush of power, there came the harsh realization: you had real, actual magic, but what could you do with it? What should you do with it? How could you have this ability, but not use it to help everyone? It was a lot to grapple with.

Most, like my parents and aunts and uncles, eventually figure it as something like an asset or skill - sure, there are lots of smart or rich people in the world, but that doesn’t mean they solve all the world’s problems either. Maybe they should try a little more in my opinion, but at the end of the day, I had the same problem as anyone else. What could I really do? It’s not like I could whip up a spell to end wars or world hunger or even make money appear. Most problems were just too big to fix, even with magic.

So I did things like fix our car when our insurance balked and gave us the runaround, and I made sure Newt’s kidneys would never fail again, and maybe I gave my son’s name a _little_ boost in the private school lottery. (It wasn’t like rich parents didn’t do it all the time through more tangible means.) I reasoned with myself that this was all fine because hey - life had never been fair, would never be fair, wasn’t it okay if I evened it out a little? For my family, for my son? It was something I still felt guilty about, even when Kofi talked it over with me and tried to assure me it was okay. 

I knew Damien was a mature kid, but I felt like telling him so early was a disaster waiting to happen. How do you keep having a normal childhood once you know magic is real? You don’t. And there was already so much I worried about for him. So much I tried to shield him from, at least for as long as I could. 

“You okay?” Kofi asked, touching my shoulder lightly.

“Yeah,” I said, jolting back into the moment. I didn’t even know how long I’d been sitting on the bed, lost in my thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. I just started thinking about telling him. I just-”

“I know,” he said, holding up a hand. “I get it. It’s a lot, and you know I’ll back your play, whatever it is. But we don’t have to decide right now.”

“He’s already dead set on this-”

“Let me talk to him,” he said, giving me a kiss on the top of my head as he wrapped me up in an arm. “I may not know any magic, but I got some skills.”

I stood in the doorway, leaning towards the stairs as Kofi went down to him.

“I heard you asked your mom about magic,” I heard him say, clearly feigning casualness. The sink started running - probably washing the dishes.

“Yeah but she didn’t want to tell me,” Damien replied, and I could hear the frown in his voice. 

“Well yeah,” Kofi replied, “because she has to kiss me every time she does a spell.”

_“Gross!”_

“Yep. Every single time. A ton of cooties, too. Did you still want her to do a spell?”

“No, that’s gross. I’ll just ask her for full size candy bars ‘cause we can get those at the store.”

Kofi said something in reply, but I could hardly hear it over restraining myself from laughing in relief. Full size candy bars it was, then.


End file.
